


Dutch Courage

by BurningTea



Category: Killjoys (TV), Leverage
Genre: Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:34:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21946546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurningTea/pseuds/BurningTea
Summary: Dutch and D'avin run into a couple of thieves whilst dealing with a warrant. Elsewhere, Johnny runs across a couple of people who seem to be used to trouble.
Relationships: Alec Hardison/Parker, Dutch | Yalena Yardeen/D'avin Jaqobis
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29
Collections: 2019 Leverage Secret Santa Exchange





	Dutch Courage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pagerunner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pagerunner/gifts).



> Set after Killjoys' final season. Don't expect any explanation as to why the Leverage team are there. They just are.

They’re most of the way to the engine room and their target when they find a mess of wires and panels blocking the corridor. D’avin grumbles and suggests finding another route. After all, the guy they’re here to pick up doesn’t have much chance of going anyplace before they reach him. Nobody is getting off this station until the next supply shuttle arrives.

But movement in the wires has Dutch reacting, and when the movement heads her way, she’s ready to take down whoever steps into view. Which turns out to be a tall man with dark skin and a startled look on his face. Dutch pulls the punch in time to avoid harming the man, but late enough she gets to see his eyes cross. She doesn’t have time to laugh at it before a something nearly gets her in the side. 

Dancing back, she stops with D’avin at her back and her hands up. Things have been a bit slow recently, and an encounter with a stranger who can attack her without moving might just be fun. She grins. 

‘Come on, now,’ she says. ‘We can all be friends. Wouldn’t want to mess up any pretty faces, even if neither of us if as pretty as D’avin, here.’

‘Can’t all have this bone structure,’ D’avin agrees, though he’ll likely point out later that the other guy is beautiful.

The stranger looks unimpressed, but he doesn’t respond. 

‘Neither of them are as pretty as you.’

That voice comes from above Dutch’s head and belongs to someone she hasn’t spotted. A woman’s voice, from up in a patch of shadows that she could have sworn held nothing. She’s getting slow in her old age. Better watch that. Covering her surprise, Dutch smirks and postures just a little bit. Posturing so often throws people off their game. 

‘Not that I’m not flattered, but I prefer to flirt with people when I can see them.’

‘Mama,’ the man standing amongst the shadows and wires says, sounding a touch weary and a dash amused, ’come on down and say hi to the nice lady.’

The woman who lands in between Dutch and her almost-target has blonde hair in a high ponytail, a frown on her face, and something that looks like a conducting energy weapon in one hand. Looks about the right size to be the weapon she blocked. Quite how this woman used it and got back up to the ceiling is beyond Dutch, which means there is near magical skill there, and she upgrades this pair from minor distraction to potential trouble. 

‘Hi,’ the woman says. 

Dutch has heard friendlier greetings from Delle Seyah. 

‘Slow down there,’ she counters, because when unsure of someone’s threat level, keeping them off balance is a good way to see how they operate. ‘At least buy me a drink before starting with the dirty talk.’

That frowns shifts, and the woman tilts her head. She sounds genuinely confused when she calls back to the man, who hasn’t moved from his spot in the wires. She also seems to be trying to talk out of the corner of her mouth. ‘That isn’t dirty talk. You said ‘hi’ isn’t dirty talk!’

‘She’s messing with you,’ the man soothes. He does something in the guts of all that wiring and twists a chunk of it away behind a metal screen, patting the screen once before stepping up to stand just behind the blonde woman. ‘We gonna fight or can we all go someplace less dark and creepy to talk?’

D’avin speaks up. ‘Are…we needing to fight?’

Dutch can picture the exact twist and set of his features as he says it, the ability to switch to either extreme violence or good-natured chatter waiting under his skin. 

‘Hey, man. Me? I don’t want to fight.’ ‘Hell, I never want to fight. What happened to some good, old-fashioned talking it out, that’s what I want to know?’

The man, who is taller than he first appeared now that he’s in a little more light and not ducked in amongst machine guts, has expressive features. He seems genuine. He isn’t standing like a fighter, either, and there’s a warmth there that makes Dutch want to trust him. An open book, or at the very least someone who’s very good at appearing to be one.

The woman is a locked box, but Dutch is good with those. She’s learned to be careful about what they might contain, but sometimes they’re more than worth the trouble of opening. Plus, she could use someone with Johnny’s skillset for a job she has lined up and there’s at least a chance this guy might be a possible replacement. Well, not replacement. Not a stand in. Nobody can replace or really stand in for her Johnny. But he might do for the job. She smiles.

‘There’s a bar back that way. Join us for a drink?’

Lucy reminds him for the fifth time that this is not how to get to their destination on time. 

‘I know, girl, I know,’ Jonny assures her. From his place behind the weird plant, he can see three men converging on the woman at the table. She’s focused on some kind of fabric, pulling thread through as though she’s in her own little homey homestead and not in the middle of a busy plaza on a world not known for being laid back. ‘Just got a couple more things to take care of and we’re out of here. I promise.’

‘I make that four things.’ Lucy’s tone is tart, something nobody but Jonny admits they can hear so well. ‘There’s another man heading towards her.’

People thread back and forth across the wide space, with only that dark-haired woman and the three men he’s already noticed occupying the little bubble of non-crowd around the café’s terrace. He scans the crowd, but none of the people there so much as glance in the woman’s direction. 

It seems odd to Johnny, whose attention was drawn to her as soon as he set foot on the planet three days before. Then, she was dressed in a sharp, tailored outfit and walked right through customs carrying a case that security didn’t even search, though Johnny missed whatever magic she pulled to get that to happen. 

Only an hour ago, he saw her again, this time wearing a dress that did not fit the previous impression at all, and it only took a few minutes to work out she was being followed by some seriously bad looking men. 

The woman herself pauses and pushes her hair back, tipping her face up to the sunlight streaming in through the canopy shield above the whole complex. She looks naïve and vulnerable.

Johnny couldn’t just walk away without checking the woman is safe. Of course, there were only two men to start with. 

‘You know I love you-‘ Johnny starts, because Lucy isn’t used to getting things wrong and doesn’t take to it well, but the man closest to the woman breaks into a run and reaches out, something bright and sharp flashing in his hand. 

Before Johnny can move, his cobbled together weapon held ready, a man he didn’t notice erupts from the empty doorway to the café. It was definitely empty and the door was shut, but still, there’s the guy, doing something brutal and abrupt to the first attacker. It brings a lump to Johnny’s throat. 

‘Not the time,’ he tells himself, and aims for the second attacker. 

What seems like moments later, all three attackers are out of action and Johnny is flashing his Killjoy badge at a bunch of suspicious looking guards. The woman at the table is having an elegant breakdown nearby, but there’s no sign of the fourth man.  
It doesn’t take nearly as long to sort out as he feared it would. He leaves the plaza for the shade of the café without realising he’s agreed to it, ushered in by the woman, who shuts the door behind them. 

‘Beer?’ The gruff voice comes from behind the bar, too hard to make out as his eyes struggle to adjust to the lack of bright light. ‘Or something sweeter? You look like a guy who might appreciate that.’

First he’s reminded of Dutch and now of his brother, in the space of not long enough. 

‘I look like a man who appreciates the sweet things in life?’ He is not a stranger to this kind of teasing, if it is teasing and not a genuine attempt to insult him. ‘As a good friend of mine would say, Honey, I am the sweet thing.’  
Dutch hadn’t had to teach him that keeping people off balance was a tool to be used, but she had helped him practice the talent. 

‘Don’t needle the man,’ the woman said, her accent completely different to the way it had sounded outside. Different again from the way she’d sounded at customs. ‘He just helped us.’

‘Didn’t need the help.’

‘Even so. Play nice.’

As his eyes adjust, Jonny makes out more details. The woman is still dark haired, still dressed in the same outfit, but there’s neither the absorbed lack of focus on surroundings or the elegant distress he saw outside. As for the man behind the bar, he’s the same long-haired, stocky type who took out two men with his bare hands faster than Johnny could manage with a stun-blaster. 

Whatever the two of them are playing at, he finds himself wanting to grin. It’s been months since he saw Dutch or D’avin, and maybe there’s no real rush to push on to his next destination right away. 

‘Glad I could help,’ he says. ‘So, about this drink?’


End file.
